


trade all my tomorrows

by Yavemiel



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode: s03e02 Children of Earth - Day 2, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, in as much as Torchwood does fluff anyway, which is to say moments of softness intermingled with angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yavemiel/pseuds/Yavemiel
Summary: Between rescuing Jack in the quarry and arriving at the warehouse on Day Three, Team Torchwood must have slept somewhere.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 32
Kudos: 51





	trade all my tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Bel for sparking the idea for this fic by noting that there was a gap in canon here where we have no idea what happened, and also huge thanks to Mal for reading through this and reassuring me that it wasn't wildly out of character.
> 
> There are a couple of POV changes during the fic, which are noted by ***, hopefully it's easy enough to follow.
> 
> The title comes from 'Just One Yesterday' by Fall Out Boy. The full lyric is 'I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday', and it is meant to be as angsty as implied. :) Hope you enjoy!

They burned rubber out of quarry, Gwen’s face grim as she slammed the accelerator to the floorboards, Rhys and Ianto swaying as they clung to the handles above the door. Jack was still naked, Rhys’s coat on his lap, and unnaturally still despite the turbulent movement of the car, eyes wide and staring straight ahead.

Gwen slowed the car slightly as they made it to the backroads a few miles from the quarry, trading speed for a better chance of escaping unnoticed. The tree cover over the road was comforting in its weight, shielding them from eyes in the sky, and they passed no other cars as the autumn sunlight faded into dusk.

Rhys twisted around in his seat to look into the back of the car, carefully keeping his eyeline somewhere around Jack and Ianto’s ear height. “Oi mate, you probably want to see about getting that coat on, not much point in driving nice and normally if the police happen to drive by and spot us with a naked bloke in the back seat.”

Jack said nothing.

Rhys looked helplessly at Ianto, who waved him away as he turned his focus to Jack. Rhys turned back to the front, and Gwen put her hand on his thigh comfortingly.

Ianto looked at Jack carefully, noting the clenched jaw, the wide-eyed stare, the minute tremors shaking his hands that were clenched in a white-knuckled grip around Rhys’s coat. He said nothing, but shifted carefully towards the middle seat, pressing his leg firmly against Jack’s as he did so, the tremors even more obvious at close quarters.

“Alright,” he said softly, trying to give you the illusion of privacy, “I know it’s not our usual thing, but let’s see about getting you into some clothes, eh?”

Jack didn’t react, but Ianto continued unperturbed.

“Rhys seems pretty insistent about the coat,” he ignored the snort from the front seat, “but why don’t we try something else first.”

He leaned forward, rummaging under the seat to find the bag he’d stashed earlier, leaning back with it and triumphantly producing a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and a pair of socks. They were Johnny’s, provided by Rhi, and he could still smell a faint whiff of cigarette smoke and the cheap laundry detergent that his parents had always favoured when he was growing up.

“No underwear, I’m afraid,” he said, “but we can just look on that as time-saving for later.”

He was pretty sure he heard Rhys mutter “Not while I’m still in the car please, had enough of that for a lifetime,” followed by the dull thump of Gwen smacking his leg, but he was focussed on Jack’s face out of his peripheral vision, watching the corner of his mouth twitch slightly towards a smile. Encouraged, he continued his patter as he shook out the clothes, making sure his leg stayed pressed against Jack’s.

“I did manage to scrounge you some socks though, I know how much you hate having cold feet.”

He unrolled the socks as he spoke, leaning down to slip first one, then the other of Jack’s feet into the warm woollen socks. He felt a light touch to his shoulder as he came back up and looked at Jack to find him meeting his eyes for the first time since they’d got in the car. Jack’s eyes were red-rimmed, his face dusty, but the vacant stare had dissipated, replaced with sharp focus. For the first time, Ianto felt like Jack was actually in the car.

“Ianto.”

His voice sounded as dusty as his face looked and Ianto winced and rummaged in the bag again. “Here, have some water.”

He handed it to Jack who took it clumsily, as though his joints were still clogged with the cement that had entombed him. He took a few sips, slow at first but turning quickly into gulps as half the bottle disappeared in a few seconds.

“Whoa there,” Ianto said, reaching forward to carefully pull the bottle from Jack’s mouth. “Not too fast, or your stomach will be having none of it, it’ll all just come straight back up.” He was unfortunately speaking from experience; Jack’s stomach was always tender when he came back from a bad death, and being blown up (by a bomb in his stomach no less) and then buried in cement was two in as many days.

Panting, Jack nodded his reluctant agreement and let Ianto take the bottle from him and re-cap it, his fine motor skills still not up to the task. He tipped his head back against the seat for a moment, closing his eyes briefly before they snapped open again. He wasn’t ready even for the darkness of his own eyelids yet.

“Alright,” Ianto said, “ready for the rest of those clothes, then? Because I have to say, even for you, just socks is a hard look to pull off.”

“Don’t lie, you love me in just my socks,” Jack said, giving a decent attempt at his usual smile. Ianto might even have been fooled if he wasn’t able to see the horror lurking in Jack’s eyes, the slightly strained quality of the grin. He played along gamely though.

“Trousers, Jack,” he said, shaking them in front of Jack’s face. “Do you want me to help you put them on?”

“Why Ianto Jones, you minx, are you trying to take advantage of me?” He grabbed the trousers out of Ianto’s hands as he spoke, and Ianto just shook his head long-sufferingly, though he made no attempt to hide his smile from Jack. “If you wanted to mess with my pants, you know you only have to ask.”

“Oi!” said Gwen, “Keep it PG back there you two, remember you have an audience.”

“Audience participation always encouraged,” Jack said with another grin, this one looking more real, and Gwen’s smile back in the mirror held more than a touch of relief, even as Rhys squawked in outrage.

“T-shirt,” Ianto said firmly, shoving it over Jack’s head before the conversation got out of hand.

Jack sputtered, his hair spraying dust as his head popped through the neck hole. Ianto reached over and ruffled it, dislodging the worst of the dust and small chunks of cement as Jack worked his arms through the correct holes and pulled down the t-shirt, his post-death clumsiness gradually fading.

He looked hilariously tousled after Ianto’s ministrations, and Ianto chuckled as Jack glared at him through his fringe. Jack reached up and ran his own fingers through his hair, improving the styling but making it dustier. Ianto frowned and pulled a second t-shirt out of the bag and ripped it in half (“Never hurts to have a spare, love,” Rhiannon had said and he had rolled his eyes at the time, but he was grateful now).

He used some of the remaining water to wet half the shirt and pulled one of Jack’s hands towards him, holding it gently in one hand and carefully removing the layer of dust as best he could with the other. He could feel Jack’s eyes on him, and he staunchly refused the urge to blush as he switched hands, cleaning the second one with the same care and attention as the first. Jack’s pulse thumped comfortingly in his wrist as Ianto wiped it clean, pausing to wet the shirt more before quickly swiping the worst of the dirt off Jack’s forearms.

He finally looked up and Jack was watching him, and as Ianto had hoped, he seemed calmer, more settled. Ianto was not a naturally tactile person himself, but Jack was, especially after he died. He needed the comfort and sanctuary of human connection, and Ianto had found that he was happy to provide it, that he found it comforting to remind himself that Jack was still there, alive, despite everything.

He cleared his throat and broke the moment, grabbing the other half of the shirt and wetting it before handing it to Jack. “Might want to clean off your face a bit there, you’re a little dusty.”

***

Jack thought about making a quip about the perils of being buried in concrete, but he found he couldn’t do it. The horror was still too close, the terror of the heavy liquid hitting his naked body in punishing splashes, trying to hold on to the last breath for as long as possible before caving to the inevitable and breathing it in, clogging his mouth, his nose, no oxygen anywhere and an unbearable weight pressing him down on all sides...he suddenly became aware that his breathing had sped up, his heartbeat throbbing loudly in his ears, and he looked around wildly.

“Breathe, Jack,” Ianto said quietly, and he gasped a deep breath in like he was reviving, the sound ringing in his ears, or maybe his ears were just ringing.

He focused on the warm press of Ianto’s leg against his, reassuringly solid but nothing like the weight of concrete, a subtle promise of comfort and support. He listened to Ianto’s calm, even breaths, felt the phantom warmth of Ianto’s hands on his, and tried to visualise the steady thump of Ianto’s heartbeat when he curled into Jack on the nights when they actually made it to a bed.

As soon as he felt he could do it without shaking, he reached out and took the wet shirt from Ianto’s hands, scrubbing roughly at his face to try and remove the visible traces of his latest ordeal. His face felt almost raw as he finished, but he mustered up a grin for Ianto as he handed back the shirt. “How do I look?”

“Dashing as always, sir,” Ianto said dryly, reaching out expertly with the cloth and quickly dabbing at Jack’s cheek to remove a trace he must have missed.

He shoved the soiled cloth back into the plastic bag at his feet, and came back out with some power bars, one of which he passed to Jack. Jack took it gratefully, feeling his stomach gurgle at the thought of food. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten, at least a day ago? Maybe two? He shoved a bite in his mouth and almost moaned as the taste of sugar burst across his newly restored taste buds. Protein bars had no right to taste this good, he was almost offended by it. That didn’t stop him from finishing it in three bites and looking hopefully at Ianto, who was nibbling more sedately on his own power bar. Gwen and Rhys seemed to be sharing theirs, Rhys handing Gwen a piece at a time and telling her to “Keep your eyes on the road, love, let me take care of the food.”

Ianto smiled at him, and produced another bar. “Eat this one slower, alright? The water seems to have stayed alright, but we don’t want to be stuck in a car full of half-digested power bar pieces.”

Jack made a revolted face at him, but he did eat the second bar more slowly, sighing and licking the sugar dust off his newly cleaned fingers. He caught Ianto’s pause out of the corner of his eye and took his time sucking the last of it off his thumb. Ianto’s breath hitched and Jack’s smile turned a little smug before he reluctantly turned his mind to more important matters.

“So,” he said, leaning forwards. “Where are we going?”

Gwen swallowed her last bite of power bar. “Well, Ianto is the man with the plan at the moment.”

Jack looked back at Ianto, who shrugged. “I know all of Torchwood One’s old hiding places, even the ones that Yvonne kept off the books. I reckon I know a warehouse where we can lay low and figure out what we’re doing next.”

Jack made a face at the mention of Yvonne, but nodded. “Ok, makes sense. So where’s the warehouse, are we going there now?”

“No,” Gwen answered from the front, “It’s in London city, and all the roads in and out will be swarming with UNIT people right now, looking for us. We need to lay low.”

“Which means?”

“Which means,” she said, taking a sharp left down a lane that Jack hadn’t even seen, “we’re sleeping in the car. Sorry, boys.”

“Ugh, but it’s bloody cold,” Rhys said. “And it’s only going to get colder once we turn off the engine.”

“Well then,” Jack said with a grin. “Guess we’ll just have to huddle for warmth, Mr. Cooper.”

“Not on your nelly,” Rhys said hotly as Gwen laughed. “You keep your warmth and all your other bits to yourself, Harkness, I know how you operate.”

“Oh boy, you wish you knew how I operated,” Jack said, wiggling his eyebrows outrageously and making Gwen laugh even louder. The sound of her uncomplicated joy warmed him even as Rhys sputtered, and a quick glance at Ianto showed that he was laughing too, quieter than Gwen but no less sincere and Jack felt a weight lift off his chest as he looked at them, safe and alive and with him.

***

The laughter was as much an expression of relief as of amusement, and it lightened the air in the car as Gwen steered it to a stop in what was more a small field than a lay-by. She tucked the car in under a tree, as close to the ditch as she could manage and turned off the engine with a sigh of relief, leaning forward to rest her head on the steering wheel. Rhys rubbed her back soothingly.

There were a few moments of silence in the car as the noise from the engine faded and muted noises from the night outside filtered in, mixed with their own breathing.

Then Gwen sat back up and twisted round to look into the back properly for the first time since they’d left the quarry. Night had properly fallen now, but the moon was bright enough that she could clearly see Jack and Ianto, and she felt something settle inside her at the sight of them.

“Right then,” she said brightly, “who’s up for a few rounds of I Spy?”

Ianto groaned and Jack burst out laughing.

“He,” Ianto said, stabbing a finger in Jack’s direction, “is not allowed to play I Spy. He cheats, he always cheats.”

“How can you cheat at I Spy?” Rhys asked.

“I don’t cheat at I Spy!”

“Oh you absolutely do.”

“I’m with Rhys,” Gwen said, “how on earth do you cheat at I Spy?”

“Listen,” Jack said, “It’s not my fault if I know different names for things, not everything is called the same thing everywhere.”

“You said ‘I Spy with my little eye something beginning with K’,” Ianto said scathingly, “and when I finally gave up the answer was ‘Kesarik’ and you pointed at a sponge.”

“You’re just exhibiting typical Earth bias,” Jack said dismissively, “Earth is the only planet in the galaxy that calls them sponges, whereas there are at least six planets that call them kesariks.”

“Typical Earth bias?” Ianto said, and Gwen could just hear him gearing up for a rant and quickly cut across it.

“Okay maybe not I Spy!” she said. “What about Never Have I Ever?”

“No alcohol,” Ianto said gloomily.

“What about Animal, Vegetable, Mineral?” asked Rhys and jumped as both Ianto and Gwen yelled “No!” and Jack burst out laughing again.

“No,” Ianto repeated firmly. “And for your sanity and ours, never ask.”

Rhys held up his hands in agreement, and Jack’s laughter petered out.

“Much as games sound fun,” he said, “I think you should probably try and sleep. It’s been a long few days, and I don’t think they’re gonna get any shorter.”

Gwen nodded, the euphoria of escape and safety fading as she remembered exactly how they got here.

She looked at Rhys and smiled. “Alright, Mr. Williams, prepare yourself.”

“Prepare myself for wh-oooof,” he began asking, ending with a huge exhale as she kneed him in the stomach trying to clamber over the handbrake on top of him. “Whoa, steady on love, that’s my balls you’re threatening with that elbow!”

She sniggered but moved her elbow carefully, awkwardly manoeuvring her other leg over the gear stick and settling comfortably on his lap.

“It’s like Jack said,” she told him, “we’ve got to huddle for warmth.”

He gave her a skeptical look, but she could feel his arms closing around her and as the adrenaline of the day wore off, felt herself quickly dropping towards sleep despite the cold.

***

Jack watched Gwen arrange herself on top of Rhys with a mixture of amusement and affection before he turned to Ianto and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Ianto rolled his eyes at him. “I don’t think so Jack. Rhys is about a foot taller than Gwen, he’s not going to have to put up with being smacked in the chin all night.”

“I was actually suggesting you could get on my lap,” Jack said with a feigned pout, “but it’s fine.”

“I’m no shorter than you,” Ianto retorted, but when Jack lifted an arm he fitted himself along his side with no protests.

They were silent for a while, just breathing in each other’s company, and then Ianto’s head began to droop towards Jack’s shoulder, catching himself every few seconds but drooping lower each time until his head was fully rested on Jack. Jack obligingly shifted his head and allowed Ianto to tuck his face into his neck, the cold tip of his nose resting reassuringly against the hollow below his Adam’s apple.

“Aren’t you going to sleep,” Ianto murmured, clearly halfway there himself.

“Not tonight, I don’t think,” Jack said quietly. “Someone needs to keep watch.”

Ianto snuffled quietly but didn’t respond and Jack rested his head against his hair, enjoying the feeling of his breaths whuffing out quietly against his neck.

It could have been lonely, the only person awake in the car, but Jack found it strangely peaceful. It reminded him of home: an entire family gathered to sleep in one space, steady breaths intermingling, safe and together. He felt himself drifting, not sleeping, but lulled into a quiet, meditative state where the people in the car were all that existed, the night noises around them a sort of white noise that didn’t intrude.

He barely stirred until the first streaks of dawn moved across the sky, the dim light painting everything an unearthly shade of blue. He tucked Ianto closer his side, rubbing at his hands slowly to gauge his temperature. The sun continued to rise, the blue hour lightening into a soft orange glow shot through with pink. As the first rays peeped over the horizon, he felt Ianto move slightly and glanced down.

“What,” Ianto said blurrily, staring at Jack in confusion.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile.

Ianto’s eyes cleared and he shifted up and slightly away from Jack, much to Jack’s disappointment.

“Time ‘s it?” he asked through a yawn, and Jack glanced down at where his Vortex Manipulator should have been before remembering.

“Dawn,” he answered instead. “We’ll have to get moving soon.”

Ianto nodded absently and shifted back towards Jack, leaning on him slightly as they stared at the dawn together.

“Red sky in the morning,” Ianto noted. “Bad omen, that. If you believe in that sort of thing.”

Jack tried to think of a witty rejoinder, but he failed, the weight of the past few days bearing down on him.

They sat quietly for a few more moments, before Jack turned back to Ianto.

“How do we fight this?” he asked. “We have nothing, everyone we know has turned against us. They’re not great odds.”

“Easy,” Ianto said grimly. “Today, we regroup, we prepare. Then tomorrow, we take the fight to them.” He turned to look at Jack and smiled. “And then we win, and we go home, same as we always do.”

“Oh yeah, easy,” he scoffed, but he smiled at Ianto as he said it, feeling the determination and belief rising in his chest, spreading out from every inch of him that was pressed against Ianto. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

_-fin-_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and please feel free to come shriek at me in the comments on on Tumblr (same username) where I can be found constantly sobbing over Torchwood. <3


End file.
